


sariak layung

by pindanglicious



Series: EngSpaWeek2018 [4]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, BROOO, Bromance, Friendship, Historical References, Hurt/Comfort, Just slightly, M/M, aduh bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 16:02:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15755073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pindanglicious/pseuds/pindanglicious
Summary: he's home but he's not feeling at home anymore. [engspaweek day #4]





	sariak layung

**Author's Note:**

> **disclaimer:** hetalia belongs to himaruya and im here sailing my ship, the fourth day's entry of #engspaweek2018 prompt no #1

# sariak layung

"I'm home."

A streak of long silence welcomed him as Arthur slowly opened the door for the first after a long time he abandoned his small house, earning a creaking sound echoed against the wall.

Old nostalgic feeling he caught. There was a tiny fragment of shivering cold touched his calf once he stepped in, standing with his big full backpack still leant on his back, clutched by his exhausted shoulders. He smelled a strong odour came through the furnitures where dust laid on every surfaces they could reach like dirty snow; tumbled across the old wooden floor in the size of a marble.

Arthur let out a sigh, slamming himself into an old, dusty couch underneath him, leaning his stiff back and seeking for a comfortable position. His blank gaze trailed from the mouldy wooden walls to the cracked windows across; the frame was already covered by sticky spider webs, some furniture were apparently gnawed by rats, making him thought of how long actually he had gone leaving his residence uncleaned.

Barcelona, he was there for seven months, and miraculously survived from the horror of civil war that he was able to be back to England. His worst wound was a fracture on his leg and his left shoulder was ripped off by a shot in Huesca. Being there along with other foreign volunteers was much the worst but his best experience he ever had.

Arthur lowered his head, rubbing the tip of his nose to repel the flashback of his painful memories on his darkest hours.

Too silent. Too quiet. He felt lonely. It was quite different before he went off to the warfare.

Then he lifted his face, looking through an opened door where he found a man stood on the entrance, waving a hand to him with his smile spreading wide and bright as his beautiful green eyes were always be.

" _Tonight, I'll let you sleep by my side!"_

"Antonio-"

Arthur stunned, his pupil dilated much to his surprise, before something slapped him back to the cruel reality.

"-no."

His vision was blured with tears as he saw Antonio wasn't standing there anymore, leaving him crying like a baby boy who didn't want his big brother let go of him.

"You're unfair."

.

.

.

" _Thank you for helping me to save my country, mate. A stout, vigurous lad you are."_

That was the very last time Antonio talked with him; amidst a horrible chaos in Aragon.

**Author's Note:**

> *story's referring to spanish civil war and battle of ebro, with george orwell's homage to catalonia as a reference. And sure it's likely more platonic.  
> *sariak layung (sundanese); afternoon time (about 5-6 pm)


End file.
